


calum's cleaning service

by cashcakeplz



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anyways, Boss/Employee Relationship, Kinda, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Smut, Some Humor, Unsafe Sex, also, as usual, ash is 26, ashton is a total dick, ashton is his boss, but hes really hot, but not really, but you know how i roll, calum is like 19, calum's a maid, calums a broke ass college student, fluff at the end, it's for like .4 seconds, luke and mikey are mentioned, so not really underage but kinda, the ending sucks, this is super fucking cliche, this sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cashcakeplz/pseuds/cashcakeplz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“At least I get my dick sucked.” He mutters, it's not really true, but whatever.<br/>Ashton laughs, like he knows Calum isn't telling the truth, and stands up, a jar of cherries in his hands. He walks over to Calum, an amused look in his eyes. Calum takes a cautious step back.<br/>“If I really wanted my dick sucked, I know someone to do it. I probably wouldn't even have to pay him overtime.” </p><p>or, the cliche one where Calum needs a job, and Ashton just wants to fuck his new maid over a table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	calum's cleaning service

**Author's Note:**

> b warned, my lovelies, this is a shitty fic with a shitty ending, so stop now if you dont wanna read shitty smut.  
> ANYWAYS  
> calum basically gets fucked over a table by his boss, and i really hope those of you who are persistent enough to read this enjoy it!!  
> XX-Alex

It wasn’t the best job, and Calum knew that. 

But here he was, broke-ass college sophomore on a footy scholarship sweeping floors and washing dishes so he could afford his shitty apartment and (money-absorbing) doggy. 

(He loved his dog more than anything, don’t judge.)

He’d been working for just over five months, and he was saving every penny, as well as scratching tallies into the wall at home. (Day 157) He couldn’t wait until he’d saved enough to quit this fucking thing. 

The work itself wasn’t hard, he  _ was  _ a maid after all. He spent his days cleaning the giant fucking house his employer lived in, scrubbing floors, rinsing windows, folding laundry, cleaning up after the owner that paid him. He was paid to work three hours a day, with time-and-a-half for all the extra time he spent. Honestly, it was a hell of a deal, because he usually finished cleaning within an hour, meaning he could spend the rest of his time sitting on the fluffy couches, and playing with the dog that lived there. Sometimes he’d stay late and eat their food. Whatever came to mind. 

So, not that bad. 

There were only two drawbacks. 

The first of which happened to be his friends. To be completely honest, it was more about his friends than his job, mostly because his friends were (are) Class A dick bags. Michael Clifford has flaming red hair and an attitude to match it. While Luke Hemmings is a little more mild-mannered, his attitude is just as bad, and Calum knows it’s mostly because Luke copies everything Michael does in his everyday quest to win his heart. (Even though he won it the first day Mikey laid eyes on his scrawny form). Honestly. Needless to say, Calum got an earful from them when he informed them he’d scored a job as a maid. 

It didn’t matter how much he was ultimately making, the fact that their best friend was working as a  _ maid  _ was enough to bring Michael, and by extension Luke, to their knees in laughter. 

So yeah, major drawback considering every time the apartment is messy, Calum is designated to clean it because ‘ _ it’s your profession, _ ’ and ‘ _ you need to practice for The Tyrant. _ ’

Which brings him to his second key in point, or the drawback that  _ really  _ matters. 

His boss. 

Now, to be fair, everyone warned Calum about him. Everyone had said that he was a major asshole, and that Calum should avoid him at all costs. Calum didn’t listen. All he saw was a lot of money and a lot of house that needed to be cleaned. 

But there was so much more to Ashton Irwin that Calum hadn’t considered. 

The guy was a  _ huge  _ dick. 

Calum had also heard that he had a  _ huge  _ dick. But that was just the word on the street. 

Anyway. 

His nickname around the HoodCliffordHemmings residence is permanently  _ The Tyrant  _ because he sucks so much joy out of Calum’s life. Well, CliffordHemmings call him that. Hood calls him boss, because he’s afraid Ashton would somehow hear him call him a tyrant, and ruin him and everything he could or can be. 

Ashton Irwin is a twenty six year old  _ millionaire.  _ Daddy died of cliche “mysterious causes” when Ashton was fifteen, leaving him with the Irwin fortune as a teenager to everyone’s surprise. Apparently the town had all expected it to go to Anne Marie, or Mrs. Irwin if you will. According to some locals HoodCliffordHemmings had ran into, Anne Marie had expected it too, and had offed herself when she found she had nothing, not even a taste of the million dollar empire Daddy Irwin left behind. 

It seemed like a cruel twist of fate, and Calum didn’t quite believe it. The town whispered constantly about those with power, it was just how things worked. Sometimes those whispers were contorted. 

Ashton worked his way to the top of his father’s pyramid, fought tooth and nail to hold on to the business and to hold on to the money that his life depended on. He picked up the business way surprisingly quickly, and it was made abruptly clear that the money everyone wanted to rob from the Irwin family wasn’t getting so much as  _ breathed on  _ as long as Ashton stood watch. 

He had people’s respect for that. Initially, he’d had Calum’s respect for it. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him, fifteen, both parents gone, and everyone questioning his stake on the goldmine that was his father.  

So yeah, pretty badass. 

Despite Calums impression of him, things quickly went sour his first day on the job. 

It wasn't his fault, not really. Okay, it kind of was, but it was his  _ first day _ . Everyone needed to give him a break, he's only nineteen for god's sake. 

Either way, he really should have known better, putting a red sock in with all of Mr. Irwin’s white dress shirts. Whoopsies. Needless to say, the next morning when Calum came to work, Ashton was sitting in the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest and an unimpressed expression on his face. 

His shirt was baby pink. 

_ “Morning boss.” _

_ “Do you see my issue here?” _

_ “I thought you liked pink?” _

_ “Don't try to be cute, it doesn't work unless you actually are.”  _

_ “Oh.” _

_ “You're lucky I'm not firing you, dumbass. Don't let it happen again.” _

Ashton left for work, and Calum scrambled away to clean his boss’s room meticulously. So yeah, bad first impression. Calum had just assumed Ashton had been a dick because had turned at least three expensive works shirts pink by mistake. But apparently that wasn't the case. 

During his third week, he was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when his boss came home for lunch. Ever since their first encounter, Calum had made a point to avoid him as much as possible. 

_ “What the hell is this?” Irwin had asked in reference to the music playing through the sound system. Calum shook a little bit before answering, intimidated by his older, far more attractive boss.  _

_ “Modern Baseball.”  _

_ Ashton grunted.  _

_ “You're into that indie shit?” He snorted. Calum frowned and turned away.  _

_ “S’not shit.” He said back. He continued to scrape a plate clean, and felt his stomach drop when Irwin sat down at the counter.  _

_ “Sounds like it.” He answered indifferently. Calum chose to ignore that. “I'm exhausted, make me lunch.” _

_ Calum finished drying off the plate, and turned to the older lad. _

_ “Lunch?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.  _

_ “Ever heard of it? A sandwich will do fine.” _

_ Calums mouth dropped open.  _

_ “But-but I'm your maid, not your cook.”  _

_ “So?” _

_ “So I  _ clean _. I don't make you food.”  _

_ “Excuse me?” Irwin asked, manicured eyebrow raised in astonishment. “I think I pay you. A lot, actually. You do whatever I say, or I fire you.” _

_ Calum’s scowl deepened.  _

_ “Dude-” _

_ “That's  _ Mr. Irwin  _ to you, boy.” He snapped, getting out of his chair. “I want it in five minutes, or you can kiss your job goodbye.”  _

_ He left the room then, and Calum, completely aware of his mental age, stuck his tongue out after the older man left. Then he pulled out the things he needed to appease him, cursing his entire existence and his cheap roommates.  _

After that, things had just kind of gone downhill. While Calum tried his best to avoid Ashton, they happened to cross paths on many occasions, with none of those occasions ending well for the employee. Irwin was picky, meticulous, and ten times smarter as well as twenty times richer than Calum, which left him nearly defenseless. Irwin asked for ridiculous things to be done, things outside the realm of ‘maiding’, and if not for the hefty paycheck at the end of every week, Calum would kiss Ashton Irwin and his damn superiority complex good-fucking-bye. 

With all the bullshit Irwin made him do, picking up fast food and dry cleaning, re-cleaning his room because it wasn't good enough the first time, and mowing the huge lawn even though he paid someone else to do it, Calum was a hardcore believer that Ashton Irwin was put on this earth to make Calum’s life fucking suck. But despite that, Calum found more and more money in his paycheck each week even though he hadn't been working any overtime. Whatever. He didn't know what game his boss was playing, and he was too tired to care. 

Today was Friday, and Calum’s nearly there, he’s  _ almost  _ put away enough to keep him alive for the next year or so, meaning he could graduate to a more dignified job. He drove to the Irwin mansion with dread like he did every day, and considered driving off the bridge when he crossed it. Maybe some day, but not today. 

Calum pulled his car into the garage, where he'd been finally permitted to park, and saw with annoyance that his boss was at home. 

Fuck today. 

“Late today, I see.”

Calum rolled his eyes, and set his bag down in the landing. 

“I literally don't have a schedule.” 

Ashton plucked a stem from a cherry, and threw it on the floor. 

“I'm pretty fucking generous, aren't I?”

“I have to pick that up, man.” Calum whined. Ashton sent him a scathing look. 

“How many times have we been through this?” He asked, somewhat rhetorically. “I am your  _ superior,  _ you call me  _ sir _ .” 

Calum have him an unimpressed look. Ashton Irwin may be at the head of a million dollar mast head, but right now, on his couch in sweatpants and a ripped t-shirt, his glasses perched on his nose, he didn't look like much.

“Sorry  _ sir _ .” He corrected. He moved to the cupboard, where he kept all his stuff. The door said ‘Calum’ on it in Irwin’s handwriting. “Do you ever leave this place? Do you  _ have  _ any friends?” 

Ashton hummed thoughtfully, and threw another stem on the ground. Maybe Calum shouldn't play with matches when Ashton was nothing but gasoline. 

“I suppose not. What's it to you?” He said, focused on an old episode of  _ The Office  _ playing on the huge tv. Calum shrugged, and pulled on his apron over his jeans and shirt. 

“Nothing. Maybe if you got yourself a girlfriend, I wouldn't have to clean up all your messes.” 

He means it to be an insult, but Ashton seems unaffected. 

“Then what would you do?” He said. “I can't imagine you could find a job, you're pretty useless.”

Fuck. Why are all of Calum’s insults bee stings, and Ashton’s are semi-automatic bullets? 

“At least I get my dick sucked.” He mutters, it's not really true, but whatever. 

Ashton laughs, like he knows Calum isn't telling the truth, and stands up, a jar of cherries in his hands. He walks over to Calum, an amused look in his eyes. Calum takes a cautious step back. 

“If I really wanted my dick sucked, I know someone to do it. I probably wouldn't even have to pay him overtime.” He says, and before Calum can register that he's talking about  _ him,  _ Irwin is dropping the jar on the tile floor, sending shards of glass, chunks of cherries, and juice all over both of them. Calum yelps, and jumps back, but Ashton just smirks. “Whoops. You'll have to clean that up, won't you?”

Calum feels airbrush out of him in utter shock and  _ rage _ , and he opens his mouth to say  _ something,  _ but nothing comes out because he can't even think of  _ words  _ form how fucking pissed he is at Ashton. His boss laughs as he walks away, and Calum fumbles for words, turning bright red, his hands fisted by his sides. 

“You-”

“Careful, baby, don't wanna say something you’ll regret.” 

And the pet name makes Calum even  _ more  _ enraged because he can't tell if Ashton is being sarcastic, or calling him baby because he can, or belittling his because of their seven year age difference. 

He manages to calm himself down rather quickly, an art perfected from many years of an annoying Michael Clifford and an over sensitive Luke. Knowing Ashton is right, Calum begrudgingly drops to his knees, and starts to pick up the glass, cursing as little pieces cut his hands to pieces. 

“I fucking  _ hate  _ him.” He says to himself, but judging the the snicker he hears, Ashton heard him too. 

Fuck him, fuck his job, fuck everything. 

 

-

  
  


Three days pass, and Calum  _ still  _ can't get the damn cherry-red stain out of the floor tiles. Yesterday, Ashton had stood over him with crossed arms, no longer playful, and asked him what the fuck was taking him so long to get it out. Calum had nearly lost it, considering there wouldn't even  _ be  _ a stain if Ashton hadn't been a complete asshole to him for no apparent reason besides personal satisfaction. 

He's just shown up to work at nine after a long day of footy camp, and he's fucking exhausted, and he  _ really  _ doesn't want to do this today, but if he wants to continue purchasing his favorite cereal, he's gotta pull through. 

As soon as he walks in the door, and sees the stain, he wants to break down and cry, knowing that if he doesn't have it out today, Ashton will be  _ pissed _ , and might fire him.  _ Fuck _ . 

He pulls on his uniform, annoyed, and goes to the kitchen to hunt down something that could help him get rid of the fucking red spot. He finds ammonia, and decides to give it a shot, remembering his mum cleaning Gatorade out of his carpet with it when he was in Year 8. 

Deciding to fuck the rest of the house, Calum takes the chemicals, and sits down in front of the stain, and begins to scrub at it. His arms feel like jello, tired after a long day, and the ammonia is hurting his hands a little bit, and he just wants to lay down and quit. 

After twenty minutes of vigorous scrubbing, he takes a break, because his hands are  _ really  _ starting to hurt. He's surprised to find that his skin is peeling back and bleeding. He freaks out, and too late, notices the warning label on the bottle of ammonia. 

Fucking duh, Calum. God. He cradles his hands to his chest, and fights the urge to curl into a ball. Instead, he allows himself a moment of pity, and pouts a bit. 

And that's how Ashton finds him. 

“Calum, what the hell?” 

Calum scowls as he enters, the sleeves of his work shirt rolled to his elbows and his honey curls messy, one side tucked behind his ear. He looks tired and pissed off. Same.

“What do you want?” He snaps, annoyed by everything. Ashton raises an eyebrow. 

“Don't give me that attitude.” 

“Well?” Calum asks. “What do you want?”

“Is that stain still there? Fuck, Calum, people are gonna think I murdered someone!”

“It's not like I'm the one who put it there.” He says bitterly. 

“You're the one that's supposed to clean it up. What the fuck am I paying you for if you can't even get  _ cherries  _ out of tile!”

Calum pressed two raw fingers to his temple in anger. 

“You know what, fuck you, okay? I've had the longest fucking day of my life, and I'm cleaning up the mess that  _ you  _ made because you were being an  _ asshole _ .” He snaps, angry and upset. 

“Excuse me?” Ashton asks. “You don't get to talk to me that way.”

“Oh yeah?” Calum challenges. “What are you gonna do about it, fire me? Do it, please. I can't fucking stand this anymore.” 

Ashtons face tightens in anger before smoothing out in trained relaxation, years of practice in front of his dad's business partners have made him an impressively composed young man. He reaches down, and hooking his fingers in the collar of Calum’s shirt, pulls him up.

“Oh, I'll show you what I'm gonna do about it.” He says to him, hissed between their faces. Calum has the sense to look frightened, and Ashton starts to drag him by his shirt before he can say anything else. 

“What the fuck-” Calum struggles, pulling away from the older man. “Let me go, damn it.” 

“Shut up.” Ashton snaps, pulling Calum into the kitchen, and slamming him up against the wall. Calum lets out a pained sound as his tired muscles hit the brick wall behind him. 

Is Ashton going to beat him? He definitely could, he's bigger and a lot stronger than he looks. Plus, Calum is dead tired and emotionally unstable, shit, Ashton could beat the hell out of him and he wouldn't even try to retaliate. 

Ashtons huge hands flip him so he's facing the wall, and panic erupts in Calum, as well as something else, something deeper in him, something  _ heavier _ . 

“A-Ashton?” He asks, his voice shaking a little in fear. 

“We’ve been through this Calum, it's  _ Mr. Irwin _ .” Ashton hisses, his hands find Calum’s hips, and push him farther into the wall. Maybe Calum shouldn't have made all those comments about Ashton not having a girlfriend. Hey, hindsight’s 20/20. “Or in this case,  _ sir.” _

Calum shivers as Ashtons hands wander a little bit, sliding forward, around Calum’s shorts and to his stomach, which is moving in panic.

“Okay.” Calum gasps. He wonders why he hasn't done anything, why he hasn't pushed Ashton away, because after all, he  _ hates  _ this guy. He stays still. “S-Sir?”

“Better.” Ashton muses, pleased with Calum’s compliance. 

“What are you...what are you doing?” Calum asks, something, a cousin to fear, runs up his spine. 

“You asked me what I was gonna do about your attitude. This is it.” He says, his hands still slowly exploring Calum’s stomach. He's forceful but gentle at the same time, making his message clear, but leaving enough space for Calum to pull away if he wants to. 

Emphasis on  _ if he wants to _ . 

“Someone’s gotta teach you some manners.” Ashton says, rejuvenated by the fact that Calum isn't resisting him. “Talking to me like that, bloody ridiculous.”

“I…” Calum trails off, not sure what to say, especially because Ashton is pressed against him, and he can feel that Ashton’s cock is hardening, and from the feel of things, the rumors about Ashton Irwin packing are true. 

Calum can hardly breathe. This is  _ happening.  _

“You think you're so much better?” Ashton asks. One of his hands slides under Calum's shirt, feeling the toned football muscles, and the other stays on his hipbone. “Think you're better than me because you  _ work  _ for everything, and I was just  _ given  _ everything?”

Calum lets out a puff of breath, and bites his bottom lip. 

“No-”

“Yes you do. So you come to work, and give me all this attitude even though it's  _ me  _ who’s giving you everything. It's  _ me  _ paying your bills, buying your food, letting you take all those pretty girls on dates.” Ashton hisses in his ear. He pulls Calum’s hips back with his hand,  _ making  _ the younger boy feel his arousal. Calum swallows down a moan, irritated and confused at his behavior. “Feel that, Calum? That's what it's like to be a real man, and that's got nothing to do with how much money I have.” 

Calum braces his hands against the wall, and tries to push away, realizing this is ridiculous. He's not Ashton’s plaything. 

“Ashton, I don't-”

“Think about what you're gonna say, love.” Ashton purrs, more like growls, in his ear. His free hands moves down to Calum’s shorts, and cops a handful of his half-hard cock. “Don't bother resisting unless you really mean it, I'll know you're lying, I can  _ feel  _ how excited you are.” 

“Oh  _ god. _ ” He whimpers. Ashton smirks.

“That's it, good boy.” 

“I don't understand.”

“Well, try to.” He returns. He gropes Calum’s cock harder, and bites at the back of his neck. “You've been nothing but a cocky bitch for the past few months, mouthing off every chance you get, taking advantage of my generosity.” 

Calum bites his lip so he doesn't make any embarrassing noises, not wanting to give Ashton any satisfaction. He remains still, though, and let's Ashton feel him up. 

“And quite frankly, I've had enough of your attitude, baby. I think I'm gonna show you who the boss is, because you seem to have forgotten.”

Despite Calum’s better judgement, he allows Ashton to pull him off the wall, and wraps his arms around the taller man’s neck when he dips for his mouth. Alongside his fucking million dollar occupation, mansion, and devastatingly good looks, Ashton also happens to be a very good kisser, and Calum finds himself tangled up in that mess, his hands gripping Ashton for dear life. After Ashton breaks Calum’s sealed lips, he grips his thighs, and Calum all-too easily gives in, letting Ashton lift him up, wrapping his legs around his waist. 

“Shit.” Calum mutters when Ashton breaks away from his mouth. He buries his head in the crook of his shoulder, and holds on tighter. “I'm supposed to fucking hate you.”

“You can.” Ashton says. He kisses at Calum’s throat, his hand sneaking to his ass for a feel. “Hate sex is the best.” 

“Whatever.” Calum says, too tired to argue or care. Ashton brings him to the dining table, and sits him down, standing between his spread legs. 

“Don't give me that, boy.” He growls. He lands his hand on Calum’s neck, and returns to making out with him, sliding their warm tongues together. 

Calum whimpers despite himself, and pulls on Ashton’s curls. He likes when Ashton calls him names. 

“You've always got this damn attitude.” Ashton says, pulling away, and nearly ripping Calum’s shirt in his haste to get it off. His eyes drink in Calum’s smooth, tanned chest, and he places another kiss to his throat. “Makes me wanna bend you over every chance I get, put you in your place.” 

Calum gasps, and his hands are pulling at Ashton’s shirt, wanting it off too. His boss is fucking attractive, Calum's never denied that. Maybe sex is a good way to vent his frustrations. He can think about it later. Right now, he wants this damn expensive button up off. 

“Want this off, baby?” Ashton says with a laugh. Calum scowls, and instead of answering, starts undoing the buttons himself. He gets through half the buttons before Ashton gets impatient, and pulls it off, throwing it to the floor, his undershirt following shortly.

“Mr. Irwin,” Calum pauses, batting his eyelashes at the older man, trying to appear as charming as possible. Ashton hums in interest at his name, and nips at Calum’s ear. “Please don't fire me.” 

Ashton bites down, and Calum lets out a little squeak. 

“I'll have to think about it.” Ashton mutters. His hands wander down, pulling Calum from his shorts and boxers, but still leaving them on. “You've been pretty bad, baby. You don't really deserve my money.”

Calum pouts, getting into it. 

“I'll be better, I will, promise.” His voice hitches halfway through as Ashton rubs his thumb over his slit, collecting a drop of precum. “Do whatever you say.” 

“Yeah?” Ashton asks, fisting Calum’s cock like a toy. “Maybe I will keep you around, if you do as I say.”

“Yeah, promise I will.” He begs, hands tight on his boss’ toned shoulders. 

“Good.” Ashton says, he noses at Calum’s jaw. “You can start by getting on your knees and sucking my cock. Don't complain, I've seen you scrub my floors plenty of times, I know you can be on your knees for hours. Go on.” 

Calum, deciding to ditch all inhibitions, smiles slyly, and sinks to his knees happily, so he’s eye level with Ashton’s slacks. He doesn't waste time, knowing the older man won't wanna be teased, and undoes the complicated button and zipper. Damn these expensive pants. Pulling them down and out of the way, Calum starts in his boxers, his eyes wide and excited as the material is moved out of the way, and he’s face-to-face with Ashton Irwin’s cock. 

The rumors were  _ definitely  _ true. Michael and Luke are gonna  _ freak _ . 

“Like that?” Ashton taunts, cocky as always. He tugs on Calum’s hair because he can; the younger lad smiles. His hand almost doesn't fit around it, it's so fucking thick, as thick as Ashton’s wrist. 

“Mhm.” He agrees, leaning forward to let the tip run against his lips. Ashton rolls his eyes, but doesn't rush him. 

“So, if I suck your cock, you won't fire me, Mr. Irwin?” Calum asks sweetly. The cock in his hands twitches, showing Ashton really,  _ really  _ liked that. 

“We'll see.” He decides. He pushes Calum’s hair out of his eyes. “Depends on how well it goes.”

Calum allows himself a smile before opening his mouth wide, and sucking the massive cock into his mouth. Ashtons hips shutter, so Calum is sure to keep his hands on his own legs so he won't push away. 

“That's it boy, suck my cock.” Ashton mutters, his eyes closed, head tipped back in pleasure. Calum is too happy to oblige, too tired and too turned on to really think this could be a bad idea. Ashton is technically his boss, which could be an issue, but it's also  _ really  _ fucking hot, and honestly, why didn't he think of this sooner? 

He swallows him down, choking a bit because it's been awhile since he's had a cock in his throat, and it was never one this big. 

“Not too bad baby, but I certainly hope your ass is better, if you wanna keep this job.” Ashton points out, petting Calum’s messy hair. 

Calum gags helplessly the first time Ashton bucks, but is ready for it the second time, and he keeps his throat open. Ashton grips his curls, and does it again, harder, and Calum had no choice, the tip of his cock  _ nailing  _ his gag reflex. He pulls off, and wraps a hand around his cock, panting. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry.” He says. Ashton grabs his hand, and Calum thinks he's gonna force his cock down his throat again, but it doesn't happen.

“What the fuck did you do?” He asks, peering at Calum’s raw skin. Calum coughs.

“I tried to use ammonia to get the stain out of the floor.”

“And you didn't wear gloves?”

“Does it fucking look like I wore gloves?” He sasses. Ashton rolls his eyes, lets his hand go, and reaches down. He lifts Calum up by his armpits, puts him back on the table, and flips him before he can get comfortable. 

“Can you do anything right?” He asks, pushing Calum so he bends over the table, giving Ashton full access to anything he wants. 

“I...I dunno, sir.” He responds.

“The answer is apparently no.” Ashton says. “I'll give you one thing, though, baby. This ass is amazing. I stare at it every fucking day.”

Calum pushes his face into the table to hide his blush and smother his moan. He never noticed Ashton’s roaming eyes on him. 

Ashtons hands are shamelessly kneading his ass through his shorts, getting as much of the flesh in his palms as possible. 

“Can't tell you how fucking long I've wanted to see it.” He purrs. Calum grips the table helplessly, and reaches his toes to brush the floor. 

“S-Sir.” He gasps. Ashton smacks his bum through his shorts, and Calum whines. 

“Jesus, you don't know how long I've wanted to hear that sound.” Ashton mutters. He yanks down Calum’s shorts then, taking them and his boxers in one go. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Calum whimpers out because he completely  _ naked  _ in front of his boss, and he  _ wants  _ to be. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Calm down.” Ashton says. “Don't you want this?” 

Calum is quiet and still.

“Calum?” Ashton insists. His hands pause on Calum’s hips. “Hey, don't you want this? I won't be upset if you don't. I'd be more upset if you let me do whatever I want.”

Calum blushes deeply, and nods. 

“What does that mean?” Ashton says. “Calum, use your words, baby.”

“I want this, I do.” He gets out finally, his face  _ flaming  _ with a blush. It's a little embarrassing to admit how  _ bad  _ he wants it.

“Excellent.” Ashton says. He pushes calum’s hips, moving him up the table so not even Calum's toes are brushing the floor. 

He spreads Calum’s cheeks, and spits on his hole, whistling when he's finished. 

“This ass, sweet thing. Even better than I pictured it.” He mutters, using his finger to move his spit over Calum’s hole. Calum shudders, the older man's hands keeping his hips pinned to the dining table under him. 

Ashtons tongue is unexpected, and that's Calum's only defense for the super embarrassing sound that leaves his mouth when he feels it on his hole. His fingers scratch into the expensive table while Ashton goes to work, his large hands holding Calum’s cheeks apart, his tongue licking over his hole until it's covered in spit. Eventually, Ashton is forced to hold Calum’s legs down, because they keep fucking twitching every time his tongue touches Calum’s hole. 

Calum writhes and whimpers, high on the power play Ashton is using, keeping him pinned to the table as much as his hands are. He squirms mindlessly, helpless from the pleasure running up his spine, the taboo of this whole thing thrumming in his veins; his cock is  _ aching _ . 

“Mr. Irwin, please…please fuck me, I can't take this anymore.” He gets out, choking on his words because  _ those weren't supposed to come out _ . Ashton smirks, stops, straightens out, and smacks Calum’s ass nice and hard. Calum flinches, his young, attractive body flexing in pain. 

“Wait here a minute, baby.” Ashton says. Calum whines as he goes, rutting his cock against the table. He's probably getting sweat and precum all over the dark wood of the table, but he doesn't care, he'll be cleaning it tomorrow anyway. 

“Naughty boy.” Ashton mutters when he comes back. “Rutting against my  _ table  _ you're so desperate for it.” 

“Mr. Irwin,  _ please _ .” He whines. Ashton smirks, and kisses Calum before walking back around the table. 

Ashton spreads his legs again, and pops the cap of the bottle of lube in his hand. 

“Don't worry, gonna give it to you, babe. I already give you everything, might as well give you my cock, huh? You and I both know you've been wanting it for a while.” He taunts, his lubed fingers rubbing over Calum’s hole, coaxing a finger inside. 

“Fuck.” Calum mutters, dropping his head to the table with a sickening thud. 

Ashton snickers as he fingers the younger man, sliding in a second finger as easy as the first. Fingering is kind of annoying for Ashton, but it's definitely a necessity, especially considering-

“Damn, boy. You're tight.” He says to Calum. “Like a virgin.”

Calum whines and shakes, getting impatient. 

“Are you one, sweet thing?” He asks in amusement, sliding a third finger into the raven-haired boy. “You letting your boss take your virginity right here, on my dining room table?” 

Calum is not in fact a virgin, he's had sex before, just never...Ashton is taking his virginity in one way. He keeps his mouth shut, and curls his toes. 

“C'mon, Ashton, please.” 

Another smack is placed on his left ass cheek. 

“Sorry?” He asks. 

“ _ Mr. Irwin. _ ” He corrects somewhat bitterly. 

“You want my cock in you?” He asks mischievously. Calum lets out a petulant sound, and kicks his legs. 

“Yes, please! Just put it in, please. I'm ready, I'm ready.” 

“Alright.” Ashton laughs. “Don't be so fussy about it.” 

Ashton grips one of Calum’s thighs, and lifts it on the table so Calum is hardly balancing on one foot. After applying a generous amount of lube, Ashton lines his cock up with Calum’s hole, and starts pushing in, using his grip on Calum’s hip to help. 

“Oh my  _ god _ .” Calum whimpers for the fourth time. “God, you're so  _ big,  _ sir.” 

“That's right.” He gasps out, feeling a little dizzy because of how good it feels to be inside the younger man. “Feel me in you?” 

Calum hums an affirmative. 

“Feel you  _ everywhere. _ ” He admits. Ashtons nails dig into his skin, sharp and stinging as Calum stretches open on his cock. 

It hurts a little, but not as badly as Calum thought it would. Sweat is starting to drip down his back, beading at his hairline, making his body and the table slick. 

“God, Calum your ass feels even better than it looks.” He comments lazily, tightening his grip on Calum’s thigh. “Feel me everywhere, huh? Can you still taste my cock on your tongue, boy?”

Calum whimpers, and nods an affirmative. Ashton leans over him, and traps his wrists, pinning them to the table as he jackrabbits.

“‘Course you can.” Ashton grunts, picking up his pace. 

Calum feels himself slipping off the table from how slick it's getting. He's holding on for dear life as Ashton pounds into him. 

“Oh,  _ God, _ Mr. Irwin.” He moans, shame thrown completely out the window. Calling Ashton ‘Mr. Irwin’ is really starting to churn something in him, loving the idea that this is his  _ boss _ , his fucking millionaire boss fucking his ass. “Please, faster.”

Unable to resist his request, Ashton does as he's asked, gripping tighter, and fucking faster. 

“God, Calum, look how fucking easily you gave into this. Do you even know how desperate you look, how slutty you are?” Ashton asks, fucking away. “Honestly, baby, I was mostly joking when I said I wouldn't have to pay you over time to suck my cock, but this is a surprise. How long, exactly, have you been craving this?”

Calum lets out a pathetic sound, squeaking down his throat, struggling to form words. 

“I’m..I’m not really sure, sir.” He admits, knowing that it was a fairly recent development, like a tonight development. 

“A long time, I think.”

The tip of Ashton’s cock nudges at his prostate, and Calum goes limp against the table, spreading his legs impossibly wider. 

“Again, again.” He cries helplessly, lost in the feeling of being fucked over the dining room table. Fuck, he’s gonna cum from this, from Ashton’s cock and rubbing his own dick all over the mahogany tabletop. His curls are falling into his eyes, and we wants to brush them away, but his hands are too busy gripping the table as well as he can so he won’t slide off. 

“Yeah? You like that?” Ashton seems to have a thing for taunting, likes having his ego stroked, and fine. Calum’ll bite. 

“Yes, sir. Please, hit that spot again.” He whimpers, trying to get what he wants out of his boss. 

“What, right there?” He asks, thrusting himself as far in as possible,  _ nailing  _ Calum’s spot head-on. The younger boy abruptly turns to jello, and cries out. “That must be it. Feel good, baby? My million dollar cock isn’t too bad, huh?” 

Calum can’t even answer, he’s so fucking close to his orgasm. He humps the table harder. 

“You really are a mess.” Ashton comments, his breath shaking too, probably approaching his own orgasm. “We won’t be having any more issues with attitude, will we baby? You open that sassy mouth of yours again, it’s gonna be shoved full of my cock, and don’t think I won’t. How’s that sound, Calum, hmm?” 

“Sounds...sounds good, sir.” He gets out, applauding himself for doing so. “Mr. Irwin, please don’t stop, I’m gonna cum. Come on,  _ please _ .”

“Good boy, begging for it so nicely. I’m gonna cum too, baby. Right inside you.”

The moan that leaves Calum’s mouth is broken and twisted. He, for some reason, loves the idea of having Ashton cum inside him, marking him as his. God, now he’s  _ definitely  _ gonna cum. 

“ _ Yes _ , yes please. I'm sorry for being such a bitch, Mr. Irwin. Just  _ please _ cum inside me.” He whimpers, losing his mind.

“You…you should be sorry.” Ashton grunts, getting closer by the second. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Calum gasps, sneaking a hand under him to stroke his aching dick, pulling and twisting. With Ashton hammering away inside of him, Calum loses it, caught up in the pleasure of his orgasm like getting swept away with the tide. He can't breathe, he's choking, shaking me and squirming as cum shoots from his cock, streaking the table with white. He groans, his hand still stroking himself, coaxing the last few drops of cum out of his tired cock. 

“That's a good boy.” Ashton mutters, loving to praise the younger boy beneath him. Calum looked fucking  _ beautiful  _ cumming; tan, toned body covered in sweat squirming as he hit his peak. The sounds that escaped his sweet mouth were almost enough to make Ashton cum on the spot, but he's managed to hold on. “Are you ready for me now, baby?”

Calum nods weakly, still spent from his orgasm. The muscles in his back twitch.

Ashton finally finishes, grunting and gripping as he releases, filling Calum with his load. His nails inadvertently dig into the younger boys leg, still pumping into him as he rides it out. 

“So good, babe.” He mutters, his own legs shaking from exertion. 

Calum settles down from his high, his fingers still hugging the table. As he comes to, the euphoria slowly starts to wear off, and he realizes what he just did. 

He just  _ fucked  _ his boss. His boss that he's supposed to hate with a passion. His stomach fills with panic, and he's suddenly itchy all over. 

“A-Ashton, I-” he starts. 

“Shh.” Ashton says, sounding like a promise. “It's okay, don't freak out, okay?”

Calum's limbs start to function again, and he lifts himself from the table gingerly. Ashton pulls out of him with a popping sound, and Calum fights to not fall back onto the table with how shockingly  _ empty  _ he suddenly feels. 

“Fuck.” He mutters, feeling Ashton’s cum leak onto his legs. “ _ Fuck.  _ I just  _ slept  _ with you! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Hey.” Ashton whispers, gently almost. “Hey, I said don't freak out.”

“Don't freak out?” Calum asks, slipping off the table to stand in front of his much taller boss. “Your cum is running down my legs! You were angry at me for not cleaning the cherries out of your floor, and now we're sweaty and naked, and you're my  _ boss _ !” He screeches. 

Ashton has the balls to look amused as his shorter employee yells at him mindlessly, so clearly freaking out. 

“And?” 

He swears Calum's eyes are about to pop out of his head. 

“ _ And _ ?” He demands. “What do you mean  _ and _ ?”

Ashton shrugs. 

“We fucked. So what?”

“You  _ pay _ me, Ashton!” He says. “This is so fucked up, people are gonna think I'm a prostitute or something.” 

Calum's boyish voice is cracking as he panics, and Ashton has to laugh. 

“Who cares what other people think, huh? It's not like we're dating or anything, I'm not your sugar daddy.” He points out smoothly. “No one else even needs to know. It happened, we both enjoyed it, we can move on.”

Calum traps his bottom lip between his teeth, and leans back on the table, wincing as he does it. He takes a deep breath, crosses his arms, and looks at his toes. 

“And...what does  _ moving on  _ look like?” He asks sheepishly, his cheeks heating up much to his chagrin.

Ashton feels a smirk slip into his face. 

“You were just freaking out about being called a prostitute, and now you're asking when we can go again?”

Calum's ears turn red as well.

“No!” He screeches, feeling red from head to toe. Ashton laughs again, his abs flexing from the effort. 

“C’mon, Calum, chill babe.” He says, extending a hand. Calum eyes it warily, and Ashton shakes it expectantly, waiting for the younger boy to take it. 

Calum lets out a puff of air. 

“Why do you keep calling me babe?” He asks, taking Ashton’s hand somewhat reluctantly. Ashton smiles, and starts walking, stepping over their discarded clothes carefully. 

“I think it suits you. After all, you are seven years younger than me, baby.” He snickers. Calum feels his ears heat up, and something inside of him stirs. 

“It was good, right?” He asks. Ashton scoffs. 

“Are you kidding me?” He says. “The best. Wasn't lying when I said I stare at your ass all day. Speaking of which, there's a spot on the kitchen floor that needs to be cleaned.”

Calum frowns, but Ashton knocks their shoulders together, showing his jest.

“You just wanna watch me on my knees, I think.” He returns. Ashton leads them upstairs, into his room, which Calum cleans once a day. 

“Well, you're not wrong.” He admits. He finally lets go of Calum’s hand, and moves into his bathroom. “Come shower with me, baby.”

Calum does as he's asked without any hesitation, following his boss into the warm water of the shower. Once they're both inside, steam billowing around them, Ashton pulls Calum closer to him, and Calum nearly falls down. A combination of shock and being fucking exhausted leave his knees weak. Ashton kisses him, and allows the smaller one to lean most of his bodyweight against him.

“You were already gross before we started fucking.” Ashton muses, his nose pressed into Calum's wet curls.

Calum nods.

“Football camp. Ten to nine, I'm so tired.” He mutters, the sleepiness finally hitting him. 

Ashtons hands come to rub at Calum’s thighs, and it shouldn't feel good, getting massaged in such an odd place, but it does, and a tiny moan slips from his mouth. 

“Why did you come here?” Ashton asks. “You should have just gone home. Fuck, Calum, it was like a hundred degrees today.”

Calum shrugs. 

“I hadn't come to work yet.”

“Are you really that desperate for money?”

“My roommates are cheap.” He laughs. 

“Jesus.” Ashton says, his thumbs digging into Calum's thick muscle, sending relief through his tired limbs. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had to pay for your apartment, I would have increased your paycheck.”

Calum snorts, because Ashton may be a dick of a boss, but he paid way more than Calum deserved, and it was way more than enough to live on, especially with his roommates buying the food. 

“You pay me a lot.” He promises. He turns around in Ashtons arms, and leans against him, their fronts together. He knows he shouldn't, he knows that it's a little  _ too  _ intimate, and Ashton seems to know too, judging by the way he tenses up. But he doesn't really care. It's been too long since he's been allowed to be in someone else's arms. He always held the girl, and the few guys he'd ever been with hadn't wanted to hold him after he'd sucked them off. He rests against Ashton, solid and warm, and allows himself to relax without thinking too hard about what it means. 

Ashton wraps his arms around Calum, and rests his chin on his head gently. 

“You really are stupid.” He whispers, taking Calum’s bleeding knuckles in hand. The warm water stings, touching his raw skin, but Calum is grateful because Ashton starts to clean them carefully, and he knows he'll feel better tomorrow.

“Well if you hadn't dropped that jar of cherries…” He mutters weakly. 

“You were being a bitch.”

“You were being as asshole.”

“It's my house.”

“And you're the boss.”

Ashton laughs, and releases Calum’s hands, letting them fall weakly to his sides. 

“That's right.” He agrees, kissing the top of Calum's head. “I  _ am  _ the boss.”

He turns off the water, and when he tries to move, Calum whines. With a roll of his eyes, Ashton bends down, and scoops Calum up, all those hours lifting weights at the gym finally paying off. Calum feels literally and metaphorically swept off his feet by this gentleman version of his boss that he's never seen before. He snuggles into his neck, too tired to know any better, and allows the older man to carry him to the bed, not bothering to dry off or put any clothes on.

He pulls the blanket over him, and then slips in beside him, burrowing down into the covers, and pulling Calum closer. 

“You're not gonna fire me, are you?” Calum asks through a yawn, resembling a puppy in doing so. Ashton laughs into his wet hair, and shakes his head. 

“No. Keeping your cute ass around for at least a little while longer.” He says. “Might even get you one of those black and white maid outfits so I can have my way with you whenever I want.”

Calum laughs, and rolls so he's laying flat on Ashton's chest. 

“I think you'll probably be having your way with me whenever you want regardless of the maid outfit.” He giggles. “But we might wanna save a little bit of my dignity.” 

Ashton rolls his eyes. 

“What for?” He asks.

“You really are an asshole.” He yawns again. 

“A little bit.” Ashton agrees. “Go to sleep, you're tired.” 

Calum smiles sleepily, and kisses Ashton’s bare chest. 

“Yes sir.” He says, only half sarcastic.

Ashton rolls his eyes, and strokes Calum's back until the younger boy falls asleep. 


End file.
